Nightingale's Requiem
by Autumn Ruby
Summary: InuYashaxRK reincarnation crossover. The dark repercussions of a dying woman's bitter curse finally take their toll. Enter now the struggle between ties to the past and dreams for the future, where not only love but sense of being are questioned.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own neither Rurouni Kenshin nor InuYasha, they belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki and Rumiko Takahashi, respectively, and all the companies that hold rights. This is purely for entertainment.

Author's Notes: Take fair warning. This is a dark story, and the materials discussed within will be dark. There will be light moments, but do not expect an entirely or even a mostly happy story, because you won't find it here. There will be plenty of anguish, guilt, revenge, bitterness, hatred, and passion (and by passion I'm not intimating sex, necessarily). I do not, however, believe in darkness/angst without a purpose. I have a plot, folks, and if you can stick with me throughout the ride, you should find that everything will fit. It may not necessarily be a _happy _fit, but it will fit. Thank you.

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**Prologue**

_ Wind, whispering through the open fields, bent the long wisps of grass beneath the softest of celestial caresses, teasing the long, ebony tresses and billowing crimson hibakama of the miko who stood as the solitary figure amidst the acres of open wood. One hand was drawn up close to her chest, the beaded strands of a necklace falling out on either side of her lightly closed fist, the curl of ivory fingers hiding the central treasure. The other lay softly at her side, her pale skin hidden by the bulky folds of the chihaya sleeve. The grasses, golden in hue but interspersed with green, came up to her knees in height, swaying under the breeze's invisible touch. An expression of expectant anxiety briefly crossed over her features, her chocolate-hued irises darkening from the shadow of narrowing eyelashes as she looked off into the distant horizon. _

_ Within a moment, the steady chirrups of crickets and cicadas and the pleasant birdsong died, and a swirl of youki rose in the meadow. The young woman's visage bore an expression then of curious puzzlement, as an unexplainable and unforeseen dread began to twist her soul. She turned her head, pale lips parting slightly as slender eyebrows knitted in almost hesitant confusion. _

_ "Inuyasha?" she asked, her alto tones carrying notes of wary bemusement into the air. The deadened, quiet hush of all the native wildlife had made her uneasy on a basic, instinctive level and her heart was pounding thunderously against her ribcage, adrenaline rushing unbidden through her veins. Her sense of trepidation intensified with the sudden sound of furiously quick steps hastening through the thick grasses towards her, and the woman whirled around, recognizing her fatal error a heartbeat too late, the searing anguish of claws ripping through flesh and tendon and bone coursing through her. It had happened so fast, so unbelievably fast, and she could feel herself falling away. Her body, overbalanced by sudden weakness and the momentum of her attacker's strike, collapsed against the earth, now damp with her blood. _

_ Her only sound was a groan, shivers of pain rippling throughout her entire body. However, she could still see it, the Shikon no tama, that beautiful jewel and terrible power, clutched just barely in her weakening grip. Ahead of her were two bare feet she knew very well, their appearance roughened and calloused from years in the wild, the skin dirty. The young man who owned them knelt in front of her moments later, his silver hair falling over his red fire-rat haori. Shame and anger consumed her as his amber eyes cast a glance over her prone form. Hatred burned in her dark gaze as she caught sight of his cocky smirk through her blurring vision, and she tried vainly to clasp her hand tighter around the bead in her fist. She couldn't die here. She had to protect the Shikon no tama. What a mistake it had been to allow herself to love this hanyou who only loved himself…_

_ "…Inu…yasha…" she tried, her anger overpowering her disbelief and pain to twist her tone into a growl. His smirk deepened as he casually plucked the precious emblem of her life's devotion to duty from her struggling grasp. _

_ "Human?" he mocked, glancing over at her with those beautiful, gleaming amber eyes that she had once loved and would now forever hate, "As if I could ever possibly degrade myself to becoming such a weakling for _you_." _

_ With the cruel sharpness of his disdainful words sinking into her shattered heart, the anger filling the miko dissipated for a moment, her eyes widening despite herself with the unbearable pain and hurt of betrayal. As he walked away, his merciless laughter echoed in her ears, drowning out all other sound. _

_ For heartbeats, she could only lie there, unable to struggle to her feet and unable to see beyond the haze of bloody rage and bitter betrayal falling about her in a dark shroud. A slight whimper escaped her lips as she tried to move, trying to push herself up. She had to stop him. If he became a full youkai with the power of the Shikon no tama, there was no telling the amount of evil he would become able to unleash. Inuyasha was her mistake. She had allowed herself to fall in love, to trust that he loved her as well. What a naïve fool she had been, and now innocents would suffer for it. _

'_After everything we have been, have done, is this all that I am to you? You have taken my heart, bled it dry, and now leave me here to suffer not only the pain of knowing your love was a mere farce, but the burning agony of my violated flesh, torn by the fury of your claws. My love for you ran deep, Inuyasha, but my hatred for you shall run deeper. For you I faltered. Because of you, I now must lay down my life. However…' eyes, dark in color and expression, became shadowed by soft eyelashes as the woman lowered her gaze, her hand tightening its grip about the smooth wood of her bow, her limbs beginning to faintly tremble with the effort required. Dipping her head, the raven strands of her lustrous hair falling over her white miko's chihaya and contrasting sharply with her blanched skin, she gathered her wits and the remainder of her faltering strength about her and climbed slowly to her feet with her weapon as a crutch._

'…_I shall not die alone. I swear, Inuyasha, upon the blood that you have spilled that your soul will find no peace in this world or the next.'_

It was with a startled gasp and a jerk that Takani Megumi found herself awoken from what she had anticipated to be a peaceful, relaxing sleep, but had instead been a sojourn in a dismal world of betrayal, bitterness, and death. Pale hands went to her face, shielding her eyes as she sat up, long, thick tendrils of midnight-black hair falling unbound over her shoulders and chest, spilling down her back and over the blankets of her futon. Her breathing was erratic and her chest still rose and fell with the quick tempo created by the adrenaline running its course throughout her body.

"Not _again_," she groaned, the inflamed passion in her tone making the words into a furious snarl as they left her unpainted lips. With a hauteur born of frustration, she flipped her hair over her shoulder with annoyance and pulled the blankets from her legs, pulling herself into a standing position. For weeks now Megumi had found her sleep disrupted by these dreams, their often-brutal imagery leaving a lasting impression upon her subconscious mind that kept them fresh upon awakening, as the dark circles beneath her cinnamon-hued eyes could attest. The context and setting for the dreams often differed between them, but there was always the central figure of that unnamed miko, the vessel through which Megumi was drawn into the feudal world. Every time she awoke, the emotions of the woman would linger, mixing with her own and shifting her perception, be it bitterness, anger, despair, or even joy and love, but always leaving a sense of anxiety and expectant dread. Tonight, the dread smoldered strongly; an unaddressed writhing in the pit of her stomach that carried the weight of warning. But a warning for what?

Pragmatic individual that she was, Megumi had never kept much regard for superstition, or even religion. She didn't hold much faith in the power of prophecy, and dismissed the dreams and the feeling it stirred within her as yet another venture of an exhausted mind, her subconscious throwing her own past and repressed emotions in her view in another form. When viewed in that light, the dreams were not simply an annoying form of inducing insomnia, but a dangerous prodding at the still-bitter side of herself she refused to allow to come to light. Every time she awoke, she could feel her darker emotions in their raw, hostile entirety simmering close to the surface, and every time she had to harden her will to push them away again.

With another irate sigh, Megumi tightened the sash about her sleeping yukata and slid open the door to her room, shutting it behind her with a soft click. The halls of Genzai-sensei's clinic were silent, the girls and the doctor himself having gone to bed hours ago and not to wake for hours more. Unfortunately for her, this had become an unpleasant ritual. She would fall asleep only to dream, and then only to wake up in a sweat, and retire to the engawa for a cup of tea in the hopes of being able to return to sleep. However, better experience had taught her that returning to sleep would not happen. As such, she found herself heating the copper kettle with no illusions.

Upon setting the water to boil, the lady doctor turned her attention to the door, where the sounds of the autumn's dry, brittle leaves scraping against the wood could be heard. Bringing up a hand to pull her yukata tighter about her lithe form, she padded softly across the tatami mats to slide the door open, resting her hand against the sturdy frame. With the initial anger and frustration having passed, a thoughtful melancholy had seeped into her thoughts and spread over her pale visage. Why was the woman so often in her dreams? She, and through her, Megumi, had died in this last dream; of that much the lady doctor was certain. Her words, her thoughts, still resounded within her mind.

'_I swear, Inuyasha, upon the blood you have spilled that your soul will find no peace in this world or the next.'_

"Inuyasha." The name rolled off her tongue in a quiet, thought-provoked whisper, the cool breeze with its foreboding prophecy of early winter rippling the raven strands of her hair about her face, dancing through the dark tresses and through the fabric of her yukata. Despite herself, Megumi shivered slightly, turning her gaze up to the faintly flickering stars. The moon was but a sliver of a crescent, casting only minimal silver light over the glistening dew-laden grass and shadowed engawa.

_ Shadow. _The word lingered in her thoughts, its meaning unclear but seemingly heavily burdened. However, the whistle of the kettle snapped her from the quiet reverie, and she shook her head, shutting the door quietly so as to quickly attend to it. It simply wouldn't do for Ayame-chan and Suzume-chan to be woken so early from their blissful slumber.

To be continued.


	2. One

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Sad, no? I think so too, and then I stop and realize that something like this is what would have happened if I did. :-P

Author's Notes: First off, thank you so very much to everyone who reviewed! Seriously, it was very nice to read all of your lovely comments, particularly when working with likely controversial subject matter such as this. Now, I didn't make a mention of this the last chapter, but I did want to say to not expect the Shikon no tama to play that large of a role here. My main focus is on the more psychological aspects of reincarnation, as you will see later. Also, I lowered the rating from R to PG-13, as there is no material just yet that will require the rating. However, it will go up later, I can assure you. So here's the first chapter! It's rather light, so enjoy the fluffiness while you can.

**Chapter One**

The tempting aroma of what would hopefully become a delicious breakfast wafted through the corridors of the Kamiya dojo, stirring the inhabitants still asleep into a state faintly resembling life. Yahiko, who slept as though he was dead anyway, pried open one sleep-clogged brown eye with great effort, the scent of the soup teasing his tastebuds and slowly breathing awareness into his sharp young mind. Upon the first signs of awakening, the rest of the process was fairly quick in the boy, as food had always been a grand motivator for the young and only student of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. The effects were always particularly strong when his teacher, the lovely Kamiya Kaoru, was not the one preparing the meal.

However, the enticing smells reaching his nose to bring a dawn of awareness could very well be deceptive, the boy knew. Hard experience had taught him that smell was not always a good judge of who had cooked, as Kaoru's cooking was known to be horrendously devious. Wonderful aromas would rise from what was surely botulism in a pot, and Yahiko would discover with a great crushing of his hopes that the leather on his sandals would likely have a more palatable flavor. With a great, heaving yawn, he finally came to the conclusion that as early as it was, Kaoru was fit to be uglier than usual and was certainly not about and making breakfast. Only Kenshin would possibly up this early, and for reasons completely unfathomable to the eleven-year-old. Oh well. It was a quirk of Kenshin's, and because it was Kenshin's, it would be tolerated and respected. However, unlike Kenshin's sword style and ideals, it would join his taste for ugly women, bad clothing, and horrible food to never be emulated.

Deciding as only an eleven-year-old who had grown to fear Kaoru's cuisine could that it was worth waking up early to eat Kenshin's cooking, Yahiko sleepily pulled the blankets of the futon away from his body and yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth. He stretched his arms, his brown eyes bleary for a moment before he ran a hand through his tousled hair and shook his head. With another couple of stretches, he finally stood, yawning some more for good measure and trying to dissolve the dry, cottony feel in his mouth.

His movements still almost completely methodical, he scratched at his ribcage and pulled his yukata off, going through mechanical motions of dressing himself to greet the day. It took two tries to tie his hakama properly, as sleepy fingers fumbled with the knot. Another yawn or two later, he finally turned his gaze to the door. By now, the smell of food had awakened hungry instincts, and the young boy had finally become completely alert. Snapping into movement, he swung open the door to his room and practically ran out into the hall, banging on Kaoru's door a moment later.

"Oi! Ugly! If you want any breakfast you better get up!"

Sure, it would get him kitchenware thrown at him later and far too many repetitions of strokes in practice than he would like, but it was fun. Also, when Kaoru had just been roused from sleep, she was generally slower and her aim would be off. With luck, she would hit Kenshin instead of him, and then forget all about attacking him with her concern for the rurouni. Really, the former pickpocket had it all strategized.

Kaoru, unlike Yahiko, had not been awoken from her peaceful sleep by the compelling and delicious aromas drifting throughout the dojo. In fact, until the aforementioned boy had so rudely hit her door numerous times, she had been quite contentedly asleep. She couldn't quite remember what her dreams had been, but she could hope they had been of Kenshin. No one _else _would have been in that laundry bucket fantasy, anyway. However, again unlike Yahiko, she neither slowly nor with great effort sprung into action. As soon as the hated adjective had been used in her name's stead, bright, expressive azure eyes had snapped open and she had flown into a sitting position, her dark hair still in its plait down her back.

"Yahiko!" she snapped with great anger, whipping the blanket from her legs and quickly standing. For now, being improperly dressed, she couldn't go chasing after the loudmouthed boy. However, as soon as she had put her cream-hued training yukata and navy hakama on, her student would find himself in a world of pain of her own design. Really, the brat would have to learn eventually, and who better to teach him the lesson of consequences than his teacher? At least, this was what Kaoru would tell herself after she had finished in the act of clobbering him with whatever heavy item was handy until she was satisfied.

Quite content with the turn her thoughts were taking, the next step for Kaoru would be to find her clothes. It was lucky for her that she was passably neat and Kenshin compulsively so, as she always knew where her clothes were and they would almost always be clean. Springing to the closet, she pulled out the desired items and quickly put them on, pausing only to make sure that she had tied the hakama properly so that it wouldn't fall off. If her hakama was ever going to come off in a man's presence, it certainly wasn't going to be accidental! However, as the thought had been a private one, it was accompanied by a blush but no mental reprimand. The entirety of her thoughts was, for the moment, dominated by the irrepressible urge to hunt down Yahiko and make him pay for insulting her physique.

Once she was satisfied with her state of dress, she flung open the shoji door with a great fuss, bounding out into the hall and sprinting as fast as the traction between the tatami mats and her tabi socks would allow. It was still fast enough, however, for her to slide a bit as she rounded the corner for the kitchen, and she surely would have fallen if it hadn't been for the steadying presence of the man she suddenly found before her. Blue eyes met violet with a flicker of sheepish embarrassment, caught off guard as much as she had simply been caught by the gentle-natured rurouni.

"Ah! Kenshin!" she exclaimed, fumbling for just the right words to explain her current situation. Though she often played about doing silly things, there was always one person whom she had always wanted to see her as adult and capable. She never thought she could ever be as beautiful and ladylike as Megumi-san, and she couldn't cook, sew, arrange flowers, or do any of the other things that women were supposed to do, but she wanted Kenshin to be proud of her, and to accept her. As far as she could tell, the rurouni had been the first ever since her father had died to do so. She was horrible at the 'feminine' pastimes, and Kenshin didn't care. That alone was enough to keep him in the highest esteem in her eyes, and she never wanted to let him go. Well, the current literal meaning of such a sentiment excepted, of course.

"Oro! Kaoru-dono," Kenshin returned, equally startled, amethyst-hued eyes blinking once or twice in confusion as he steadied the kendo teacher on her feet. Of course, though he often feigned innocence, there was very little that the former hitokiri Battousai missed, and he was quite aware that Kaoru had as of yet not moved to disentangle herself from him. He was also quite aware that, as of yet, he had not moved to push her away. The prospects were perplexing, considering how much he did care for the young woman and the dangers any further relationship with her might create. Still… he had never been able to push himself away before Kyoto, and with a promise to return, he knew he wouldn't leave again. Something about her, about her beautiful innocence and kind, strong heart had bound him then and bound him now.

For her part, Kaoru had finally realized that she was still pressed closely against Kenshin, and, as such, pulled away with a quickness born of discomfiture, a faint hue of color spreading over her pale cheeks. She nervously lifted a hand to brush her hair behind her ear, having entirely forgotten about Yahiko. The boy, smart as he was, was smugly waiting near the table with no intention of provoking her again just yet. Really, it had been of perfect design. He irritated Kaoru, Kaoru got dressed faster than she ordinarily would have, and he got breakfast earlier since Kenshin wouldn't serve the food until "Kaoru-dono" was at the table as well.

As Kaoru recovered, Kenshin kept his private amusement in check and began to maneuver them towards the table. Previous experience had taught him that Yahiko wouldn't wait much longer for food to be served.

"Breakfast is ready, de gozaru, Kaoru-dono," he said mildly, indicating the table they seemed to suddenly be standing in front of with the wave of one magenta-sleeved arm. Kaoru blinked azure eyes before smiling happily, her embarrassment momentarily forgotten with the sudden sense of food before her, and good food, no less.

_I wonder what it would take for me to cook a meal that was even passably good? _she reflected idly, a hint of bitterness accompanying it. _It's not my fault that Mother died before she could teach me how to cook_. The sudden vehemence in her thoughts bothered her, and she tried to shake it aside. Kenshin didn't need to see her bitterness. She should be grateful for everything that she had, and not wallow in her shortcomings. It didn't make it any easier, however, when she often thought of herself as a failure as a woman. Sure, she was good at kenjutsu, but in the rigidity of the expectations for men and women in the Meiji society, she would not and could not amount to anything. Those she crossed swords with respected her, but it wasn't like she could cross swords with everyone, and, even then, it would only reaffirm their beliefs.

_It doesn't matter what they think! I have Kenshin, and Yahiko, and Sanosuke, and even Megumi-san. I don't need them._

There was still that young girl inside of her, however, who could see the faraway image of her mother in all her refined, elegant, and ladylike splendor, and want to achieve it. At the same time, however, she knew she never would. She could throw herself into her kenjutsu to honor her father's memory, and she could take care of Yahiko and secretly dream of being a good wife to Kenshin, but she knew she would never, ever, reach the ideal she held for her mother. That ideal was reserved for women like Tomoe, so quiet and beautiful, or women like Megumi, refined, intelligent, and equally beautiful.

"Mou," she said softly, taking her place at the table and giving no hint as to the turn her thoughts were taking. As she plucked her chopsticks from her place, she could feel more than see Kenshin's observant amethyst orbs watching her movements. As was expected, since she had absolutely no desire to worry him, she lifted her chin to meet his eyes with her own, and her reassuring, cheerful smile.

"Breakfast smells wonderful, Kenshin, as always," she said cheerfully, the bitterness and resentment that _could _have been in her tone completely absent. With her chopsticks in hand, she gave him another bright smile, hoping to disarm him, but always knowing that he could see through any farce she might try to erect.

"Itadakimasu," the three said in unison, Yahiko's excited voice drowning out Kaoru's cheery tones and Kenshin's quiet, gentle ones. With a fervor that he only displayed when confronted with food or battle, Yahiko began to devour the tantalizing morsels set before him. In his eyes, it was perfect: he hadn't been attacked by Kaoru, made to do chores, made to eat Kaoru's cooking, or made to share Kenshin's cooking with Sanosuke. A wonderful morning, indeed.

After they had finished eating, Kaoru stayed behind to help Kenshin clear away and wash the dishes, despite his protests of being able to handle it alone. Kaoru knew he could, as he had demonstrated so many times, but every now and then she didn't mind helping. Often, though, the pleasure was not derived from the housework but from working in close company with the rurouni. Such a time was now, as they were both bent over the same washtub, draping sleeves pulled back and tied away from the water. Occasionally, when she was sure of not being caught, Kaoru would lift her azure eyes to watch Kenshin as he went about the seemingly effortless daily task, and a small smile would lift her lips as the scents of soap, water, and that slightly musky aroma that escaped any classification other than 'Kenshin' filled her nose.

Even when he could not see Kaoru watching him, Kenshin always knew when her blue gaze would lift from the dishes and task at hand to him. It touched and amused him, but at the same time, interested him. It was clear when she would do so that her thoughts were elsewhere, and he could only venture a guess as to where. A soft smile crossed his mouth as he scrubbed lightly at a particularly stubborn spot of food on the dish, his face tilted at such an angle so that his expression was not readily apparent to the girl beside him. Though he would often protest, he enjoyed these quiet moments between them as much as she did, when all he had to do was simply breathe in her nearness, her youth, and that bright, shining personality of love that drew him to her in the first place.

Still, he had sensed more than seen the dark thoughts going through her mind earlier, and it troubled him. He could pick up emotions, but not actual thoughts, and the reasons for her latent bitterness were not known to him. That something was bothering her bothered him for reasons he didn't quite _want _to define, so he settled with the safe, easy explanation that he was concerned about her because he cared, and wanted to protect her. And he did. Kaoru was his shining light, his balm to his soul, and he would do whatever it took, including, if absolutely necessary, returning to the hitokiri if it meant keeping her safe.

_Such dark thoughts_… he mused, silently checking himself. Kenshin could think of no person with whom he hadn't fought who would bear him a personal grudge and impair what happiness he had found for himself. A small wince and quiet exclamation of pain from Kaoru caught his attention, and he looked up from the plates he had been washing with concern. Apparently, as he looked at her, he could see that one of the plates had broken, and she had cut herself on the porcelain. It was not a bad cut, he could immediately tell, but it still wouldn't do to let it go untended. With a soft and gentle, but firm motion, he pulled her hand towards him, quietly ripping off a portion of the hem of his magenta sleeve and wrapping it about her slender finger. Silently, he marveled at the soft feel of her fingers in his own sword-roughened ones, though the only expression that lifted his features was an understanding, reassuring gentleness.

_Idiot, _Kaoru mentally scolded herself, watching with fairly wide eyes as Kenshin wound the magenta cloth about her finger, mesmerized by his movements and the shine of the golden sun on his auburn hair. He was so sure of himself, so quiet, so peaceful kneeling there beside her with his hands about her own. Surely, though, he must think her a clumsy child, even as she found she was secretly enjoying the almost-tenderness of the rurouni's touch. For a few moments she couldn't speak, unaware of the faint burning in her cheekbones.

"Kenshin?" she asked softly, almost hesitantly, upon finding her voice. He, finished with the task, met her gaze with that soft, knowing smile that melted her heart every time he flashed it.

"Sessha is sorry, de gozaru, that you were hurt, Kaoru-dono," he said with an equal gentleness, taking the broken pieces of the plate away from her as she forced herself to quit marveling at the unique colored cloth wound about her injured digit. "Sessha can finish the dishes on his own, de gozaru."

Kaoru shook her head. It had only been a little cut, and, in her mind, absolutely nothing to worry over. But then, Kenshin did have that often-adorable but equally-often annoying habit of over-worrying. She waved him off, again embarrassed by her clumsiness.

"No, really, Kenshin, I was clumsy. It doesn't hurt… I want to help." Blue eyes held violet for a moment longer before Kenshin smiled softly, the gesture more for himself than for her. There was absolutely no deterring Kaoru from something she had set her mind upon doing, the rurouni knew. It was a trait that could either exasperate him or endear her to him, depending on the context and his mood. However, whatever he had been about to say was rudely interrupted by an equally rude and brassy voice. Kenshin, unlike Kaoru, was amused by Yahiko's antics. Kaoru's sentiments were, well, far from amused.

"Oi! Kaoru! Stop making googly eyes at Kenshin like a dumb, silly girl and teach me something!" Indignant brown eyes glared across the yard as Yahiko, hands on the hips of his dark green hakama, impatiently waited for Kaoru. He couldn't leave for the Akabeko until he had his morning lessons, and the more dallying that Kaoru did, the less time he would have with Tsub…to do work and get paid.

"What?!" Kaoru returned at an equally loud volume that was, unfortunately for Kenshin, rising with her pitch at an exponential rate. Part of it was simply anger at having been caught in an awkward situation, as Kaoru had never been one to take to emotional discomfort well; it usually resulted in violence.

"Oh, wait; you _are _a dumb, silly girl!" Yahiko crowed, tempted to throw in the 'tanuki' comment as well. However, he did have some sense, and decided he would save the ultimate hated nickname for when he really wanted her to get moving. As far as he was concerned, he was good at manipulating Kaoru into doing what he wanted— so long as one didn't take into account that his techniques usually resulted in physical pain for himself.

"You're going to be doing strokes until you're black and blue and so out of breath you can't even break wind without pain when I get through with you, Myojin Yahiko!" came the infuriated response from the kendo teacher, who was on her feet with the speed of virtuous rage and running towards the boy a split second later.

Kenshin had to admit with a sort of mild, quiet sovereignty that Kaoru was more articulate than she usually was when truly angered in this particular instance. Perhaps it was a sign of hope? As the familiar sound of a cracking bokken reached his ears, however, he merely sighed. Perhaps it _was _too much to ask for. With another slight sigh, the rurouni shook his head, his long, auburn hair swaying with the movement, and gathered the now-clean dishes to return to the house. It was another ordinary day at the Kamiya dojo.

* * *

"Takani-sensei?" a smooth but concerned voice broke through the lady doctor's quiet reverie as she stared deeply into the ankle she was bandaging, her mind far away although her hands still moved mechanically through the motions. If there was one thing in the entirety of her medical career she would never become dull at handling, it would be wrapping wounds. But then, such was the price of being consistently in the company of warriors who never seemed to have an end of troubles. Glancing up, she shifted her expression from surprise to a kind smile and gentle serenity. No sense in worrying her patients with her insomnia. A bit of makeup had hidden her dark circles and given color to her pale cheeks, but it was still impossible to disguise the way she occasionally lost her focus. In her line of work, that was dangerous, and she needed to stop it. 

"No worries, Kobayashi-san," Megumi returned easily, finishing her wrapping of the man's ankle and cutting the excess bandage. "Your ankle should heal within the next month or so, but come by the end of the week for me to change the dressing."

The man nodded his thanks, paying her the money he owed before standing with the crutches supplied to him. As he passed through the door, another patient, an elderly woman, came in after him, nervously glancing around the clinic walls. Megumi was quite familiar with the lady, a widow whose husband and children were claimed long ago in the Bakumatsu. The lady doctor could sympathize.

"Onna-sensei," the woman said hesitantly, fingering the sleeves of her drab-colored kimono. Her gray hair was pulled up in a bun, and her small, watery brown eyes met Megumi's with a mixture of shame and hopefulness. A soft, understanding smile lifted Megumi's lips as she watched the woman. It was for people like this woman more than for the rich patrons that Megumi had become a doctor, although her search for redemption led her to treating all. Still, the poor who paid in whatever they could touched Megumi in a way that those who thought money could buy everything never would be able to.

"Don't worry, Ito-san," she said kindly, "It's taken care of, as always. I have your prescription right here." With another gentle smile, Megumi sat up from the chair she had been in and smoothed the front of her navy kappogi and pale blue kimono before walking over to a series of cabinets and drawers. Pulling open one, she pulled out a pouch of medicine and handed it to the elderly woman, a quiet contentment filling her heart at the open gratitude on the lady's face.

"Thank you so much, onna-sensei," she said, her voice shaking with the tremors of age. Her wrinkled hand patted Megumi's smooth, youthful one a couple times in a gesture of matronly affection. "You're so kind."

Megumi was again touched by the woman's honesty and open faith. A real smile lifted her lips and lighted her cinnamon irises despite her almost overpowering weariness. How long had it been now since she had had a decent night's sleep? Far too long, in both her personal and professional opinion.

"Thank you, Ito-san," Megumi said softly, still smiling faintly as the woman disappeared out the door. Though her workdays and nights were often long and trying, it was in small moments like these that she found her gratification and her reason to continue. As she turned to record the day's patients in the logs, a bit of an urgent knocking on the door grabbed her attention, and she dropped the pen, forgotten, onto the book's white pages. Kenshin and Kaoru came in then, each supporting an arm of Yahiko's, and the boy was looking far more sullen than usual.

"Ken-san! Kaoru-san! Yahiko-kun!" she exclaimed in surprise, clearly having not expected them, and certainly in not such a manner. "What happened?"

Kenshin's amethyst eyes met hers with apology shining in their depths as he and Kaoru helped Yahiko to a seat. Unwrapping the boy's arm from about his slender but strong shoulders, he straightened again. Kaoru was obviously torn between feeling guilty, worried, and irritated.

"Sessha doesn't entirely know, de gozaru, Megumi-dono," Kenshin said, his gaze troubled slightly. One hand went to the back of his auburn head, scratching briefly in a gesture of unease. "Kaoru-dono might be able to explain more completely."

"I've told you and told you to watch where you were going," Kaoru huffed with more than a little annoyance, though the root of it all was worry. Both hands were on her hips as she lectured her pupil, expression the perfect picture of ruthless superiority. Yahiko wasn't responding to the reprimand well, his brown eyes turning stormier and more defiant with his own ire, embarrassment, and wounded pride.

"I _was _watching where I was going! If you hadn't been trying to clobber me again, I wouldn't have had to dodge and I wouldn't have fallen! It's _your _fault, ugly!"

"_My _fault?!" came the peeved and indignant tones of Kaoru, "You're the one who tripped and fell off the engawa!"

Kenshin was calmly looking up at the ceiling, his hands behind his back and beads of sweat gathering beneath his eyes. It was clear that he was a bit embarrassed by the pair's behavior, but also too familiar with it to dare try and stop it. Megumi, however, had guessed the gist of what had happened, and was now tired of listening to the bickering.

"Kaoru-san! Yahiko-kun! Need I remind you that I have other patients in the back who are seriously ill and trying to get much-needed rest? If you want to yell at each other and bicker and attempt murder, do not do it within these walls. Now, let me see that foot." Cinnamon eyes had flashed with the intensity of her irritation, her tone a snap as she brushed between them. The almost non-existent state of her sleep-deprived patience and the fact that she could feel a headache beginning to pound in her temples had made her temper short. She was not going to deal with the antics of teacher and student today.

Kaoru and Yahiko shut up as one, both turning wide eyes to Megumi. The lady doctor pretended not to notice, already kneeling before Yahiko and critically examining his ankle. It seemed that today would be the day for ankle injuries, she mused as an aside, her fingers gently but skillfully probing the swollen flesh. After failing to catch the lady doctor's gaze, Kaoru and Yahiko looked at each other and then at Kenshin, who was still maintaining an expression of innocence as he continued to place the ceiling under intense amethyst scrutiny.

"The ankle's not broken," Megumi said at last, straightening from her position on the floor to go to her store of supplies, retrieving a salve and fresh bandages and bringing them back to her young and not-so-eager patient.

"It's not sprained either, but merely twisted. If you stay off of it for the next couple days, you should be fine. I'm going to wrap it, however, as a precaution." She didn't make a mention that the precaution was not because she feared the wound was a bad one or would intensify, but that she knew the raucous environment of the Kamiya dojo. Her tone was clinical, the words informative and missing a great deal of the compassion that she usually turned on patients. Her temper was strained indeed, between weeks of far-too-little sleep and the throbbing pain between her eyebrows. She was not exactly rude, however. Politeness had been ingrained too much in her by her mother and by society.

"Megumi-dono?" Kenshin inquired softly, violet eyes imploring her dark cinnamon as she looked up from finishing care of Yahiko's maltreated joint. Brushing her long, rich, thick hair over her shoulder, she met his gaze evenly and easily, hearing the concern in it and also completely unwilling to acknowledge it. She was exhausted and strained, and refused to show it with a stubbornness few but her could claim.

"It's nothing, Ken-san," she said, giving him a tiny smile she hoped was reassuring. Many years under men such as Kanryuu had taught Megumi how to act, and she had long ago perfected the art. At the top of her form, she could almost fool herself; however, she knew she could rarely fool Kenshin, though he might be too tactful to confront her on it just yet.

"It's just a headache. I'll take a powder after I see you out."

The red-haired rurouni seemed to accept this, and nodded, though she knew that he simply didn't feel that now was the right time to press the issue. Usually she found his ability to read her endearing, as few had ever been able to do so, but when she was trying to rely on herself and her own strength, it was frustrating. Ever independent and proud, Takani Megumi did not take well to being patronized or coddled. Kenshin knew this, and respected it. He would not interfere unless he saw it absolutely necessary. They had often communicated thus, the subtleties they left unsaid holding just as much meaning if not more than the actual words they had spoken.

"Don't think that you're going to get out of all your chores," Kaoru whispered to Yahiko, one hand still on her hip and her dark ponytail swaying with her movement. In response, he merely glared up at her and started to give a retort, but the memory of Megumi's earlier sharp admonishment held the furious diatribe he longed to throw at Kaoru at bay. Instead, he merely stuck out his tongue.

"Thank you, Megumi-san, for taking care of Yahiko yet again," came Kaoru's almost sheepish gesture of gratitude to the lady doctor, one hand toying almost nervously with a strand of raven hair. It appeared that she, too, was still a bit taken aback by the doctor's razor tongue. But, then, she did have to privately admit that she and Yahiko _were _being rather loud. At Kaoru's almost hesitant thank you, Megumi glanced up and forced her features to soften.

"No, it's all right. Just see to it that he doesn't do _too _much for the next day or so. He's really quite lucky; the injury could have been a lot worse."

Yahiko muttered something incoherent, his expression still faintly sullen. It was clear that he didn't look forward to the next few days of boredom with eager anticipation. He did, however, thank Megumi, who brought him crutches in turn. Any other day, it might have been amusing to see Sanosuke's reaction when confronted with the sight of Yahiko on crutches, but if there was one person who Megumi wanted to see any less than a bickering Kaoru and Yahiko in her current mood and state, it was Sagara Sanosuke. For his own sake, the roosterhead had better steer clear of any gambling houses or like-minded idiot thugs that might bring him and that infernal busted hand of his within reach of her claws. If she had to bandage _him _today, she could promise that he wouldn't be moving for quite a while.

Recognizing the look in her cinnamon eyes and the irritation in her ki, Kenshin had just come to a similar conclusion. For Sanosuke's own good, the rurouni would warn him ahead of time. He also decided that it was probably just as well that he gather Kaoru and Yahiko and get them out of the stressed woman's hair. He didn't know exactly what it was that had set her on edge, but Kenshin could tell she wasn't entirely at her best.

Yahiko accepted the crutches from Megumi with a faint grimace, as if the thought of his reputation and image being damaged by the sight of his hobbling about on them like a cripple had occurred to him as well. On any other day, Megumi would have let a vixen's smirk of near-sadistic satisfaction cross her lips. Today, however, she merely observed with quiet detachment. There would be no question of payment; she owed them far too much as it was, and it went unsaid. They no longer even attempted to pay, as it was rebuffed just as quickly. Megumi would never accept any payment from them, and they knew it. They also knew why.

"Thank you again, Megumi-dono, de gozaru," Kenshin said in parting as he ushered the still-bickering, albeit more quietly, pair outside, "take care of yourself." Megumi nodded and gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and watched as they walked— or hobbled, in Yahiko's case— down the path and out of sight. Tilting her head out the door, Megumi could see no waiting patients on the engawa. Now would be as good a time as any for a break and a cup of medicated tea. With a purposeful motion, she flipped the sign outside that said 'open' to 'closed' and retreated inside to what she hoped would be peace and quiet. Genzai-sensei and the girls had gone into town, and wouldn't return until later that day. As she heated the water to brew the tea, Megumi briefly contemplated the idea of a nap.

_It would be nice. _

* * *

Individual comments! I always love getting these when I review, so I'm going to attempt to pull it off here. ;-) 

Ancient( ): Thank you! I hope I can continue to hold your interest.

Sesshomaru-luvr25:Oh, I do believe that there will be enough of this to sate you.It's not going to be a short fic. Torturous for me to type, perhaps, but I love it.

Strife( ): Mmm. Reincarnation is funny that way, isn't it? Often, things don't go as planned; the same holds true for even powerful miko like Kikyou. Sometimes, it takes more than one try to find happiness.

Liem:Given you food for thought, have I? I thank you for the compliments. I do like to keep people on their toes... hopefully you all won't prove too smart and figure me out entirely just yet. ;-)

Trupana: I love you. No, seriously. I've adored your fics since...well... for forever, I've just been too damn shy/lazy/insert-adjective-here to review. -; Or, wait, I think I have reviewed. Regardless, it just seems so long ago, and you'll have to excuse my momentary lack of articulation for my joy at having you review a fic of mine. -; I am an A/Megs fan, and very much so! Kikyou and Megumi both get a bit of a bad reputation and are often misrepresented, which is a shame, really, considering the depth to their characters. However, that's neither here nor there. Do expect to see a parallel between them, and, as to peace... well, I can't give too much away, now can I?


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